


I Am Not Suicidal, But God, I Wish I Was

by citrusfriend



Series: The Girl In The Fire Alarm [18]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Asian Character(s), Childhood Memories, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Fetishization, Gen, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Parent/Child Incest, Pedophilia, Poetry, Racism, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault, Sexual Harassment, Slam Poetry, Stalking, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trans Male Character, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, i dont recommend reading this trigger fest actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 19:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30077334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusfriend/pseuds/citrusfriend
Summary: Somehow, they all forgot to mentionthat being a predatoris not limited to white boogie men.
Series: The Girl In The Fire Alarm [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748884
Kudos: 5





	I Am Not Suicidal, But God, I Wish I Was

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone should read this, I just have a pathological need to share my trauma bc otherwise I convince myself it isn't happening. If you do read this, I tried to tag as comprehensively as possible, but I'm tired and may have missed smth

I am eight years old and I have a very cute shirt  
that has two girls eating watermelon embroidered to the front.  
I am not allowed to wear it.  
It does not cover my shoulders,  
so I _cannot_ wear it, my mother says,  
as if I should already know,  
even though I have already worn it.  
I am eight years old and my mother  
has chosen every item of clothing I have ever owned,  
but I cannot wear any of my shorts anymore.

I am twelve years old and my favorite hobby is catfishing  
on my mother's iPod Touch that I pilfer whenever I can.  
I go on Omegle and sext and I do not know why  
and I do not touch myself.  
I argue religion with a Muslim man  
even though I do not even know  
what the Qur'an is.  
Another man tries to groom me,  
but my internet unexpectedly kicks me from the chat;  
I try desperately to find him. I can't.  
I do not realize  
how _lucky_ I am.  
A man tells me that once he put his whole head  
inside someone's vagina and killed her.  
I do not believe him, but I throw up anyway.  
A woman tells me she isn't gay, but she can pretend,  
and then introduces me to lesbian incest porn.  
This is the year that I am completely convinced  
that I am condemned to Outer Darkness,  
the worst hell possible, in my parent's religion.  
It is not for the reason you think. 

I am fifteen and finally able to call myself Asian and trans without stuttering.  
I go online for groups and forums  
for anime and asian music  
and in exchange, I am sexually harassed  
by strangers, by _women,_ who call themselves  
'social justice warriors'  
'woke'  
and 'LGBTQ+'  
and suddenly, being Asian and trans are no longer labels  
I reclaim after a lifetime of internalized bigotry.  
Instead, they are fetishes for the masses,  
they are to be _sexualized_ and _infantilized_ in equal measure.  
I always hear about men and catcalling and sexism.  
Somehow, they all forgot to mention  
that being a predator  
is not limited to white boogie men.  
I never trust a fandom space again.  
I never trust a white person to see me un-sexualized again.

I am eighteen and a boy at work is 6'5  
and he looks at me the same way my father did.  
He asks me on a date and I refuse.  
I tell someone else that I am  
half white, half Asian,  
and he overhears  
and talks to me about hentai.  
He asks me on a date and I refuse.  
I wonder if he would leave me alone if I slept with him. I don't.  
He tells another coworker that he gets off to lolita porn  
and makes eye contact with me.  
I learn he wants to be promoted at work  
and after a month of refusing,  
I accept the promotion that had been offered to me,  
because I _will not let him have power over me._  
He tells me poetry about my eyes,  
he asks me on a date,  
he shows me the knife he keeps on a necklace.  
I refuse. I refuse.  
I get myself two knives.  
I tell an older trans woman all of this, laughing,  
because this is just how it goes, isn't it?  
She does not laugh. She tells me to report.  
He asks me on a date. I _refuse._  
I tell my boss and she asks, 'what about his girlfriend?'  
He had started dating a girl at work weeks ago.  
I hadn't known.  
He is reported for sexual harassment.  
I tell his girlfriend and she stays with him anyway.  
Later, I hear he took he virginity in a way that sounds like rape,  
even if no one calls it that.  
He quits before he gets promoted.

I am nineteen and a sixteen year old coworker is raped  
in the _work parking lot._  
Someone else calls my work and threatens to kidnap and rape my seventeen year old coworker.  
I own five knives and pepper spray.  
My female coworkers  
are not allowed to talk to custumers alone.  
No one is allowed to leave the building alone after dark.

I am twenty and two girls have had cars try for follow them home, on separate occasions.

I am twenty and a seventeen year old coworker has a stalker.

I am twenty and I own _eight_ knives  
and I get pepper spray for the entire store.

I am twenty and almost everyone I know has been abused somehow.  
All of the girls under 18 I know have been harassed.

I am twenty and sometimes, I wonder if my parents  
are just normal people.  
 _Everyone_ seems to be sexually abusing kids,  
nowadays.

(I'm doing so good,  
god, I'm fighting so hard.  
Recovery is hard work  
and I'm not dying anymore.  
I don't want to die anymore.  
But, oh, _I wish I do,_  
you can never understand  
how much I wish I _could._  
Riots like these never last forever  
and I'm too tired for a civil war.

I was right, when I was suicidal, you know.  
Life is too miserable to live for.  
But I've bled on all of my white flags  
and I love too much to sew another.)

**Author's Note:**

> 3/15/21


End file.
